


Omega Mating Project

by Entropyrose



Series: The Alpha Agent Chronicles [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alpha Brock Rumlow, Blood and Injury, Brock Rumlow is a piece of shit, Forced Bonding, Forced Orgasm, M/M, Rape, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-24
Updated: 2020-06-24
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:00:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24897328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Entropyrose/pseuds/Entropyrose
Summary: Brock Rumlow has been recruited by fellow agent Billy Russo into the ultra-secret Omega Mating Project. It doesn't take him long to realize he's not the only one, and that there is alot more to it than what Shield is telling him.
Relationships: Brock Rumlow/Original Male Character(s)
Series: The Alpha Agent Chronicles [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1801504
Comments: 2
Kudos: 16





	Omega Mating Project

**Author's Note:**

> This fic can easily be read by itself. It's a side-fic regarding the Omega Mating Project referred to in The Beauty Of This Mess. 
> 
> This fic will contain graphic depictions of rape, both with and without romantic elements. Some of these depictions will be told through the view of the assailant. Please mind the tags.

When Billy first approached him about the Omega Mating Project, Rumlow thought he was talking out of his ass. The concept of some super-secret sciency thing existing deep within the bowels of Shield was hard enough to believe but the notion that Billy was one of the agents assigned to it was damn near laughable. Add to that that Billy insisted that Rumlow was to tell no-one, Frank in particular. (Now Rumlow could honestly see that part. Frank might have acted all tough and unfeeling, but the fact of the matter was when it came to Omegas, he was a downright bleeding heart.) But Billy being involved in some covert assignment that even Frank was left out of? For as long as Rumlow had known him, Billy had been living in Frank's back pocket. He didn't so much as take a shit without proudly reporting it to his superior (brown-nosing bitch). 

Billy asked Rumlow, one day, out of the blue, if he'd ever thought about becoming a father. It was an odd way to start any conversation, let alone one between workmates. But it was just him and Billy in the weapons locker. Billy had offered to take Jack's place on ammo duty, and right then and there Rumlow should have known that something was up. Other than a sideways glance from the scope of his G36, he tried not to show he was a little surprised. "Sure, some day," He muttered, checking the site and opening the chamber before placing the rifle back in its case. "If I ever find the right Omega."

"The "right" Omega?," Billy scoffed. "You didn't strike me as the monogamous type."

"Neither do you," He replied.

"I'm not," Billy scoffed, plucking another clip from the bag. "Not yet anyway." He said this a little more quietly. 

"Oooh, mysterious," Rumlow retorted. He slid a fresh box of 9MM's across the desk to him. This was as many words as the two of them had ever spoken, and if Billy was gonna make it weird, Brock was going to be damn sure to return the favor. "What, you got someone special in mind, Agent Russo?" 

"Don't let your eyes roll out of your head, Brock," Billy said flatly. "And we're discussing your future here, not mine." Billy went on to explain the "special project" he and some of the other Shield agents were working on. He said they were looking for recruits from within. Guys that might be interested in serving their country in an even larger capacity, and getting handsomely compensated for it, both monetarily and otherwise. It was the "otherwise" that caught Brock's attention. Turns out, that was also the part that Billy was most hesitant to go into more detail about. All he'd say, until Rumlow indicated he was interested, is that Shield was looking to expand its benefits to mankind by "procuring physically superior progeny". And that Rumlow's DNA had made the list. 

Rumlow snorted. "Damn, Russo, you telling me that my little swimmers are super-soldier material? You got me blushin' like a schoolgirl over here."

"Not exactly," Billy corrected. "And don't get too far ahead of yourself. The Program is looking for Alphas to inseminate selected Omegas. What happens to the embryos from there depends on whether or not they pass qualifications."

Rumlow sat back in his chair, lips pursed over a gloved thumb. "Sorry, sir, I'm still stuck on that insemination part. You mean Shield wants to pay me to fuck physically perfect Omegas for thier little baby farm?"

Billy's jaw clamped shut as he pushed away from the table, shoving in his chair. Letting out a sharp huff he grumbled, "forget it." 

Before he got out of arm's reach Rumlow snagged the edge of his belt, pulling him back. "Wait up a sec."

Billy glowered back at him, clearly expecting another snarky remark. But a wide grin slid across Rumlow's face. 

"I'm in."

As Billy had said up front, there was more to it than fucking and running. Rumlow had to make spare time to undergo the various medical tests, some of which were a bit embarrassing. The blood tests were not big deal but when they started poking and prodding his jewels that was a different story. One doctor in particular, a beta who wasn't even that good looking, insisted upon sticking a wand up his ass to verify that his prostate was in good condition. "Well it was until you fucking wrecked it!," he shrieked indignantly, bounding off the exam table and hugging the flimsy hospital gown tighter around himself. His ass throbbed for days after that. Fucking ugly beta shitbag. He'd even made Rumlow hard. 

He hoped that whoever these supposedly "superior" omegas were, that they were worth all the trouble. Rumlow was only a little disappointed when he found out each Alpha only gets to pick one. The trade-off was, he wouldn't have to share any of the goods with other strange Alphas. 

Occasionally when walking the halls to and from the different laboratories, the sweet, unmistakable scent of Omega would float by. Omegas smell delicious on a regular basis. But this….this smell was divine. As the days went on the smell got stronger and closer. Rumlow knew the tests must have been going well, even though the results themselves were "classified". He was going deeper into the inner workings of the program. 

Of course during all this, he continued with his usual job. His official title was "Strike Reconnaissance Field Agent." But it was usually a hell of alot more hands-on than that. Maybe that's what really appealed to him about the Program; it gets lonely at night after a full day of busting people's heads in. Now, Rumlow treasured the feel of sending his fist through another guy's sternum or a clip-full of jacketed lead into someone's head. But the hours were shit. Senior Agent Frank Castle ran a tight ship and it was anyone's guess where the team would be headed from one day to the next. You could be enjoying an all-expenses-paid flight to Italy to take down a drug syndicate or crawling on your belly in fly-infested waters in the Amazon to gather Intel. In between missions was so much worse. Long hours of re-stocking ammo or training or polishing Senior-Agent-Perfect's fancy ass Range Rover was enough to make any Alpha go insane. 

Worst of all was the loneliness. If he was lucky, on missions, he might spot a prostitute or two. But these days his M.O. for downtime pretty much consisted of a fifth of Jack, a protein bar and jerking off to the Discovery channel. 

It was true he'd considered being a Dad some day. And let's face it, he wasn't getting any younger. But fatherhood required (or at least implied) a significant other. And you don't get one of those without putting in the time. 

So he figured, fuck it. If he couldn't get an Omega the old fashioned way, why the hell not try this?

"Please have a seat here for just a moment," the man in the Dr.'s robe gestured to a bench in the waiting room. Okay so this was a bit awkward. There were other Alphas here, eyeing Rumlow the same way Rumlow was eyeing them. It was as if they were contenders like the Roman gladiators of old, being pitted against each other on the fields of war to determine the victor. The place reeked of high octane Alpha B.O. Rumlow crinkled his nose. Suddenly he spotted a familiar face in the small crowd. 

"Rollins?," he rasped in a harsh whisper, taking a seat beside his friend. The man was a giant, and dwarfed the rest of them. The uniform Rumlow was so accustomed to seeing him in was replaced with a sterile hospital gown, but it did nothing to hide his impressive size. 

He gave Rumlow a white-toothed grin. "Hey, Brock."

"What the hell you doing here?" Rumlow had been so caught up in stroking his own ego over this Omega Project thing that it hadn't even occurred to him that Billy might have asked someone else from the Strike team to join. "You in this whole ...ya know, breeding program too?"

"I was about to ask you the same thing," Jack said. 

"Jesus, who else from Strike is here?" Rumlow began surveying the room from the corner of his eye, though he wasn't nearly as conspicuous about it as maybe he should have been.

Jack shrugged. "We're it I think. Everyone else seems to be from Intel or the NYPD, as far as I can tell. Nobody I recognize."

Rumlow sat back with a huff, his arms crossed over his chest. 

"What?"

Rumlow tossed his head aside. "Figures. Here I thought they were only accepting the most elite Alphas."

"Let's face it, the list of high powered Alphas that aren't already mated is pretty slim. I'm just glad to be here. I'm getting pretty sick of just me and my left hand on Saturday nights, know what I mean?"

Brock made a gagging noise and Jack snickered. "Yeah thanks for that. There's an image I'll never get out of my head." 

It wasn't long before the conversation turned to their mutual superior. It seemed, as much as Rumlow hated to admit it, that Frank Castle should be the obvious choice. After all, he was an Apex Alpha---supposedly the superior Alpha specimen. The very moment he walked into a room, he commanded it. His Apex pheromones were capable of chemically controlling everyone around him, Alpha, Beta and Omega alike. Not only that, but Frank was single. Hell,  _ more  _ than single. He was fucking married to the job. 

Now, Rumlow wasn't stupid or gullible enough to think that Billy had divulged the whole truth about the Project, and Rumlow had an inkling that that might be why only certain Alphas were considered for the task. What if the selectiveness of their candidates went beyond medical reasons...what if they were also looking for specific personality types? Ones that wouldn't mind having to do what was necessary, in the event that an Omega acted up or all-out resisted. Then there were others who probably would enjoy that kind of thing. Rumlow wasn't sure which of the two categories he fell into. He had a feeling he was about to find out. 

Rollins agreed that Frank wasn't one of those types. When it came to Omegas, Frank was funny like that. Aside from opening doors for them and speaking ever-so-gently to them, Frank treated Omegas like they were same as everybody else. That's probably why Billy was so adamant about Rumlow keeping his trap shut. A guy like Frank just wouldn't get it. He'd probably cause trouble, do something stupid to try and stop it. 

After a few solid minutes of silence between them, Rumlow finally piped up about the other thing that had been bothering him. "Did they do that… ya know, wand thing up the ass?", He asked beneath his breath. 

"Oh they tried," Jack snorted. "I told 'em to pack sand. The dude backed off pretty quickly."

Rumlow's expression flatlined. "...Yer shittin' me."

Jack laughed. 

The tests took a solid few weeks to complete. It vseemed like Rumlow was in there every other day for one thing or another, meanwhile keeping up the same routine with the Strike team. Billy was as much of an asshole as ever, barking orders and hovering close to Frank's side. He kind of admired Billy's ability to carry on as if nothing was going on. He had an unreadable face and a pair of unflinching black eyes that looked as if they could swallow you whole and never gave away anything that might be going on behind them. 

For four days after the tests were complete, there was no word from Headquarters. Rumlow wasn't nervous that he might not be accepted...after all, he'd already been hand-picked as a top candidate. Rather, he was a bit restless. He'd lay up at night thinking about just what the fuck he thought he was doing. Was he really ready for a mate, let alone offspring? As far as he knew Shield was just handing him an Omega to breed so as to produce more little soldiers. It was what he  _ didn't  _ know that concerned him. Shield may have touted themselves as big-time, goody-two-shoes, saints of justice and all that, but underneath it was shady as shit. 

Only, guys like Frank Castle were too noble to see it. It was so much easier to buy into the line of bullshit they so freely sold. 

Rumlow didn't give a shit what Shield was up to, so long as he kept getting paid good money to bust in heads and wear a uniform while doing it. 

Then one morning, an unmarked envelope tumbled out when he opened his locker door. Inside was a short letter with the official Shield seal at the top, From the corner of his vision he could see Rollins, also at his locker, opening a blank envelope very similar to Rumlow's. . Almost in tandem their eyes met and after what seemed like an eternity, Jack cracked a small grin. 

Rumlow nodded in solidarity. Shit was about to get a hell of a lot more entertaining. 

Selection Day that following afternoon proved that not every Alpha had made the cut. A slightly smaller crowd of agents, about 30 or so, were gathered in a line, standing at attention, with arms folded neatly behind their backs. Rumlow was placed shoulder-to-shoulder with Jack, his teammate for close to ten years now. A tall man in a black Doctor's coat entered and ordered them to call off by their Agent number. They went right on down the line, in order by seniority, which placed Rumlow and Rollins near the top. 

They shared the same recruitment date, which meant that they'd gone alphabetically by last name to determine which of the two of them would get to choose first. After roll had been called, a door on the far end of the hall opened and in shuffled a line of Omegas, chained together at the waist and wearing matching "uniforms," if you could call it that. They were little more than scraps of white cloth gathered around their necks and draped down just long enough to cover their naughty bits. Some of them were crying and shaking, their eyes darting around the room in terror. Others looked downcast, faded purple rings evident on the exposed parts of their flesh. Rumlow's eyebrows went up. Sure, he believed in all that rhetoric about Alphas being the dominant species and Omgas being subservient, but this seemed a bit extreme and the Shield he knew would definitely frown upon anyone being treated this way. 

The one on the end though….

A fiery redhead with one side of his head shaved and a bad attitude written all over his face was jostled back into line. He let out something that sounded alot like "fuck off" and Rumlow couldn't keep from grinning. 

Some of the others were pretty enough, sure. The tears and pleading though, Rumlow could do without. One was stoic, but he was far too tall (because there was no fucking way Rumlow was going to be caught dead with an Omega that dwarfed him). And it was clear that others were picked for their DNA alone because the poor things had been hit pretty hard with the ugly stick. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Jack staring down the line, too, his gaze settling on the redhead for just a little too long. Rumlow couldn't stop the low growl that rumbled out of his throat. This was just so fucking wrong! Rumlow was practically Jack's supervisor, yet he'd get first pick all because of his last name being a bit higher up in the alphabet than Brock's. 

"That little blonde one in the middle is pretty cute," Rumlow murmured, hoping to throw Jack off the Redhead's scent. 

Jack paused as if in consideration, and after a moment he answered, "Yeah," in a high-pitched tone that suggested his interest had been successfully piqued. 

As the cloaked Beta once again began to speak, Rumlow relaxed his shoulders a little. With any luck, a little persuasion had done the trick and he would be well on his way to enjoying a little Strawberry Shortcake for dessert. He slowly ran his tongue across his lips, imagining what his slick tasted like. 

The beta called them out in order, and one by one the Alphas closed the distance between themselves and the line of shivering Omegas. The first Alpha pointed to a very pretty one with long, wavy brown hair and the boy was unhooked from the chain gang and practically tossed to the much bigger man. The Alpha was directed down a hallway with numbered doors. He pulled the Omega along behind him, the boy's desperate cries disappearing as they rounded the corner.

Of the few agents that came before Jack and Brock were called, not one of them even so much as glanced at the fiery-eyed omega at the end. Things were looking good. Unfortunately, the blond that Brock had cherry-picked for his fellow agent had been snatched up by one of the others. Rumlow's fears were confirmed when Jack strutted up to the end of the line and placed a thick bear paw on the redhead's shoulder, ignoring the cat-like snarl that came from the kid. 

The ginger omega tried to jerk himself out of his hold, but Jack's grip only tightened. "This one," he said. 

Rumlow's heart dropped out of his chest.  _ Goddamn it! Couldn't have one goddamn thing without that giant asshole screwing his plans!  _

The beta gave Jack a very hesitant look, which made Rumlow wonder what lengths they'd gone through to get him locked up in the first place. Jack's grin widened as the kid was thrust forward and the beta scientist jumped backward. Half-dragging him kicking and spitting, Jack flashed a triumphant grin back at Rumlow as they continued on down the hall. 

Brock's disappointment turned to all-out rage. That fucker had chosen the redhead on purpose, knowing Brock had his eye on him.

Unfortunately there was no time to dwell on it. Rumlow was next, and soon his name was being called and he was ushered forward into line. There were some really cute ones that were a definite possibility, but none had the fight in his eyes that Rumlow was looking for. He wasn't dumb enough to think that anything romantic could come of what he was about to take part in, but he also didn't want to fuck a brainless Lifedoll. 

He chewed on his lip and made his way up and down, back and forth, taking his time examining each and every Omega, most of whom whimpered and/or pulled away from his touch. 

"Well, Agent?" The Beta said, impatiently.

"Yeah yeah", Brock murmured, re-crossing his arms. "I'm gettin' there…"

A dark skinned, purple-haired kid showed promise. He was a bit too tall for Brock's liking, just a few inches shorter than Brock himself, and more inquisitive than the rest. Well, Brock reasoned, at least with this one he'd be screwing something with a little personality. He stepped forward, and was just about to open his mouth when a sudden roar exploded from the hallway. The commotion sent the scientists running in that direction, pistols set to "stun". Jack appeared a few seconds later, the high collar of his uniform unbuttoned, his hair disheveled and sticking halfway out of his ponytail. He held his mouth, blood pooling around his fingers, his eyes white with rage. With his other hand, he barely held onto a red-haired tornado, the white sheet torn from around his neck, hanging in strips around his waist. 

Rumlow's eyebrows disappeared into his tightly cropped black spikes. 

"Scrappy little bastard!", Jack howled. "Fuckin' bit me!" 

He shoved the Omega onto the ground hap-hazardly, not bothering to wait until they could have him properly restrained. 

"It's what you deserve, you disgusting piece of shit!",

cried the Omega. 

Suddenly Brock found himself unable to wait a moment more. He pointed down to the red-head and practically shouted "THAT ONE."

The scientist and his crew started at Rumlow as if he'd grown a third eyeball. The redhead on the floor sneered. 

"I want that one," Rumlow repeated, his eyes glittering hungrily. "I'll take him." 

  
  
  


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